


Obsession

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has Tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 14:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18918937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Steve accidentally gets a glimpse of Tony's tattoo. Now if only he can read what it says.





	Obsession

Tony has a tattoo below his back.

Steve only knows this because one day he was up early in the kitchen, too bleary because he kind of overshot time and he thought, might as well sit and have a good hot tea before he starts his daily run. He was perfectly content with a warm mug wrapped in his perpetually cold hands, when Tony stumbled in. Nothing new, because Tony Stark keeps odd hours. Doesn’t care for day or night and Steve doesn’t know how that is humanly possible but Tony lives to prove it. Anyway, Steve watched because his tired eyes had nothing to do at 4.30 am so, it was only natural that when Tony bent to pick up the spoon he dropped and his shirt rode up that Steve caught the sight of old ink on skin. Black ink faded to dark green over time, an inscription, he noted. But that was as far as he got before Tony was standing straight again and the picture changed and Steve suddenly has this new obsession festering within him; _what does it say?_

After that, Tony went back to where he came from (probably his workshop or if he was feeling exceptionally kind towards himself, maybe to bed). He didn’t even notice Steve. It’s not intentional considering that’s how Tony acts during these odd hours; like a zombie (Clint made Steve watch every single movie about them so it’s kind of hard to forget about them now). Steve on the other hand, washed his used mug, toppled it over the drying rack, walked out of the building and built up his usual rhythm before sprinting full-on for two hours. All the while, only one question rolling in his head; _what does it say_? Accompanied by the memory of tony bent forward exposing his lower back. Nothing odd about thinking of another man’s lower back, right?

Wrong.

Somehow the obsession intensified and Steve developed these ‘alert me antennas’ that perk up whenever Tony is anywhere within his sight. Unbeknownst to him, the other members start noticing this weird new development in Steve. Natasha starts quirking an eyebrow up every time she meets his eyes while Tony is in the room. Then it was Clint. Guy just flicked a knob of butter onto Steve’s face one time when Steve was almost gawking at Tony’s back. It was well, greasy and embarrassing, when Clint shook his head muttering ‘dude’ under his breath like he couldn’t believe what he’s subjected to witness. Bruce is kind, but very wrong. During one similar humiliating occurrence, while Thor was blissfully oblivious with his 10th bottle of beer, Bruce nudged him and said; “Go for it.”

Steve choked on his water, composed himself enough to ask ‘go for what?’ but his tongue suddenly got numb and his mouth decided not to speak. In the end, all he managed was a constipated frown at Bruce and excused himself to leave the party earlier. Until Lieutenant Rhodes caught up with him, magically appearing out of nowhere and offered to walk him back to his room. Steve tried his best to be polite with rejection but the man insisted, strong hand pushing Steve gently forward and when the lift closed, he was facing what the twenty first century could only best describe as a ‘shovel talk’. Painfully uncomfortable moment where Rhodey never stopped to hear him out (it wasn’t like Steve was tongue-tied. Pssh.) but bludgeoned on and on about how he’d never care for national icon if that icon hurt a single hair on ‘my Tony’. Ending with a spectacular one liner of ‘I will cut you.’

That opened a completely new perspective for Steve, overnight. Suddenly, when he recalls Tony bending, it isn’t only about ‘what does it say’ but is also about ‘that’s a lovely rear’ and, ‘how would it feel in my hand’ then, ‘how would Tony react if I lay my hand there’. Which leads to inappropriate thoughts. Which leads to long showers and sometime, desperate cold showers. Then forth, Steve is stumped. Because it wasn’t intentional. He just wanted to know what the damned tattoo says but now, somehow, he’s looking at Tony for entirely different and mortifyingly vulgar reasons. And it’s not only Tony’s back. It slowly becomes his hips, then his chest, thighs, hands, arms, neck, jaw, back tracks to feet (very strong solid feet), ankles, then up again to face, eyes, nose, and oh god, them lips.

Now Steve’s graduated to hair. It isn’t like he doesn’t go back to appreciate the others but ‘obsession point’ is different. It shifts around the obsessed subject, who is Tony. Lovely, incredible, and astonishingly handsome Tony. Sometimes, Steve has to pause to berate himself for not paying enough attention to Tony all those times. How could he possibly be in the presence of this gorgeous man and be completely oblivious to it. Then he retracks his own journey through all these and he concedes that he probably just carries ignorance in his gene. But that isn’t of importance now when Tony’s mussed, stylishly messy hair is in view. It’s adorable. Tony’s adorable.

Oh god, Steve’s doomed.

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking, may I suggest you stop it? I just woke up.” Clint grunts from his side.

Steve hunches over his juice glass. His breakfast platter stacked in his stomach and the empty plate glaring at him, forefront. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mumbles into the almost empty glass. His eyes yearning to go back to Tony’s fluffy hair but he forces them to stay at where they currently are. Staring at the empty plate.

Clint gives an unimpressed snort. “Keep telling yourself that, buddy. It’s either you ask him out or your fairy tale will never happen.”

Steve frowns, his stubborn eyes returning to look longingly at his crush. Tony’s slouched in his own chair, eyes closed while he maintains his grip around the coffee mug on the table. Judging by the deep lines between his eyes, he seems to be concentrating hard on either waking up or accepting that it’s morning. Either way, it makes Steve sigh a quiet laugh. Next to him, Clint groans as if on cue.

“Oh God. Stop it.” He says, then shifts purposefully in his seat, a chunk of scrambled eggs hanging for dear life on a fork dangling in his lazy hand. “Hey Tony? Man? You gotta stop this, dude. Before Steve loses his shit, give him his love back cause this is too torturous, man. C’mon!”

Steve jerks upright, manages to spill a pool of orange juice on the table, barely manages to stop the plate from breaking on the floor, and he gawks at Clint. His brain screams ‘wrong person’ when the bastard leers and he almost pulls a muscle turning to look at Tony.

Tony remains stagnant in his position except for his now big brown eyes staring wide at Steve. Steve, stumped and heart racing 110 beats per minute, could only swallow the lump in his throat and look back. He can’t even bring himself to say anything or shift any muscles. He hears Clint cry ‘ow’ in the background. Somewhere faraway. Knows that Natasha has his back and he hears multiple chairs grating against the tiled floor. Couple of minutes later, it’s too quiet around Tony and him so Steve coughs to interrupt it.

Somewhere between the others walking out and the kitchen becoming empty, a new air of amusement has settled between them and Steve feels his face burning. He sees Tony’s ear reddening and feels mildly better for himself because Steve is a full-body blusher.

Tony swallows, adam’s apply bobbing and he clears his throat. “So?”

“So.” Steve concedes even though he doesn’t know what there’s to communicate with just two letters. A questioning and an affirmative ‘so’.

 

Tony chuckles, dropping his gaze finally to shake his head then, he leans forward, eyes darker and daring, back on Steve. Steve holds onto the now empty juice glass as if it is his life. He doesn’t break their gaze, though. Adamant in his own ways as he stares with a challenge. Tony’s eyes go all soft and crinkly at their sides in disbelief.

“Is Clint right?” He asks, rough yet careful.

There are so many things he want to correct in what Clint said. For once, it’s too early to be love. Then, there’s that reciprocating thing. Tony is not obligated to do that. But what he sees in Tony’s eyes only makes him nod, defenceless.

“So, Bruce was right then.” Tony hums thoughtfully. When Steve quack ‘What’ he says, “I thought you were eyeing my ass. Rhodey confirmed that for me. But Bruce said something about it being more than just my ass.” He drifts off, narrowed eyes looking for confirmation from Steve.

Steve wants to slam his face on the table. His blood is boiling in shame hearing Tony put it that way. Instead, he slaps both hands on his face, groaning then, drags them down to let just one eye peep. “I wanted to see what your tattoo reads. It was genuine curiosity.” He confesses.

Tony blinks then, pulls back to himself. “Oh.” He exclaims. His entire face shifting into a blank canvas. “Oh, I thought…”

“No, no, no.” Steve reaches for him, hands flapping in the air as he tries to grab onto Tony. Make him stop second guessing this whole thing. “Clint was right.” He says urgently. “Whatever you thought, it’s right. Unless, I mean- Er. Look, it started that way alright? I wanted to know what your tattoo says. Then it just- Well- I mean. It all just blew out of proportion, and now I’m. I- You know what? How about I do this right? Like I should have from the beginning?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Let me take you out. Because I like you. Like that. And I’d really love to take you out for a date. What do you say?”

Steve holds his breath, his hand gripping Tony’s right wrist which he’s just came aware to, immediately loosening but never letting go. He keeps Tony’s eyes to himself, searching. Tony’s surprisingly not telling. Simply shrugs and says the most embarrassing thing possible to Steve.

“If you make it worthwhile I may let you see what my tattoo reads.”

And he does.

Albeit not until after their second date and an excruciatingly long week of dating (Steve has been pining way longer), when Steve has taken to hanging around Tony in his workshop, Tony guides one of Steve’s hand down and under his skin tight shirt during their increasingly intense slow make out session. He shudders when Steve’s hand touches his bare skin.

“Sorry.” Steve apologizes for his cold hands.

Tony simply smiles into the kiss. “I like it. I like you.” He mumbles back then break away from their kiss altogether.

“Wha-,” Steve starts but is immediately silenced when Tony pulls off his shirt completely. Arc reactor blindingly blue for just a short moment because then, Tony turns to expose his back. Steve’s cold hand back in his own as Tony blindly guides it to just above the hem of his jeans. “You wanted to see.” He explains softly.

Steve’s heart tumps in his chest as he slides down to his knees. Two hands carefully caging Tony’s hips as he brings his eyes to focus on the words, mouth suddenly dry.

**_Fuck Me Hard_ **

Steve balks. He redoubles, thinking it isn’t right but he read what he read.

“It says what it says.” Tony supplies from above. He chuckles as an afterthought. “I was an illegally drunk teenager with sexual drive of a primate on heat when I got it. It’s stupid. It’s a tramp stamp is what it is.”

Steve hears what Tony says, but his focus is elsewhere. It’s something about the ink – fading dark green – that sits on Tony’s skin. The colour contrast, perhaps. Or the way when Steve presses a thumb over it, it shades stark-white then pools back the blood in. Or maybe it’s just Tony. Has _always_ been about Tony and less about the tattoo on his back. Whatever it is, it makes Steve lay his lips against it. Dry at first, then he wet them and make Tony hiss.

It becomes a thing later. Tony calls it a kink. But it doesn’t matter because nothing’s going to stop Steve from kissing those words right before he pushes into Tony. Or when he worries his teeth and lips around them as he fucks Tony slowly with his finger/s. It’s like a command which Steve takes to his heart; even when he makes love to Tony, Steve makes sure that he fucks him hard.

 


End file.
